


Los Alamos

by panademonium



Category: Breaking Bad
Genre: Backstory, F/M, First Meeting, Gen, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:43:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panademonium/pseuds/panademonium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skyler Lambert meets a handsome stranger who changes her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Los Alamos

**Author's Note:**

  * For [warriorpoet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/warriorpoet/gifts).



Ten letters. The clue is: "Ones who think things are good as gold."

Skyler raises her pen to write: _A L C H E M I S T S_.

The jingling of the bell above the door announces the arrival of a new patron. She deftly tucks her newspaper under the pile of menus at the podium, at the same time reaching to draw a menu off the top of it.

He's a handsome one, this guest. Thick auburn hair and an easy smile, with green eyes that light up when she turns to face him.

"Welcome to the Hill Diner," she greets him, matching his smile. "How many?"

"Oh, all by my lonesome today," he chuckles. "Unless you care to join me?"

She laughs at that, indulging him. She laughs every time she hears that line. She hears it several times a day, from all sorts of men. She has to hand it to him, though: he's delivered it with the smoothest purr out of all of them. "Sadly, I'm still on the clock," she says, with a nod to her manager, who's posted at the register. Then she turns with a flourish to lead her handsome patron to his booth. "Right this way."

She can feel his eyes on her legs.

-

Her alarm goes off at six in the morning. This time of year, the sun isn't even up yet. She rises from her bed in a daze and stumbles into the shower. The heater sucks and the water's always cold, but at least it serves to wake her up.

Once she's out, she sticks a few curlers in her hair and settles down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and her creative writing homework. She should have finished it last night, but a twelve-hour shift at the diner left her so exhausted she passed out as soon as she walked in the door. Even now, she's having trouble making sense of words. Her story has to be in the professor's inbox by noon, and she's only got a page and a half of it down on paper.

Sometime around 8:30, the phone rings. There's only one person obnoxious enough to call her this early, and she ignores it for about half a minute. But the phone rings and rings, and eventually Skyler huffs out a sigh and picks up just to get the noise to stop.

" _What?_ " she snaps into the receiver.

"Hello to you, too," Marie quips on the line.

"Can this wait? I'm in the middle of—"

"Um, _no_ , it can't wait. Otherwise I wouldn't be calling you, dummy."

"What is it?"

"They cut the electricity."

"Are you kidding me?" Skyler presses her fingers to her temple. She can feel a migraine coming on already. "Where's dad? Is he home?"

"I don't know where he is. Skyler, it's _freezing_ up here. The house is going to be solid ice by the time I get back from school. I was just thinking... You got paid the other day, right?"

"Oh, Jesus..."

Marie becomes desperate, her voice rising, "Look, you know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't—"

"I'll take care of it," Skyler cuts her off before the hysterics start. "But when he comes home, tell him this is the last time. Alright? I can't keep doing this."

"Thank you, thank you, thank you. You're the best big sister."

"Don't miss your school bus, Marie."

-

Ten letters. The clue is: "Fall apart."

Skyler raises her pen. _C O M E U N D O N E_.

The jingling of the bell above the door announces the arrival of—Oh, it's him again. She hides her newspaper away and turns to face him with a menu in hand. "Welcome to the Hill Diner," she says, tucking a blonde curl behind her ear. "Table for one, again?"

"Unless you feel like taking your lunch break now," he replies with a mischievous smile.

Skyler laughs the way she's supposed to. "Sorry, already had lunch. Right this way."

Once he's seated, she returns to the podium and her crossword puzzle. She doesn't make much progress before a family of five walks through the door. She greets them with a smile and leads them to the large booth at the far corner of the restaurant.

On her way back to the front, she passes by his table and can't help but glance down. There's a cup of coffee and a sandwich in front of him, but his attention's on the newspaper in his hand. It's the New York Times crossword. The same one she's working on, except he's only managed to fill out one of the answers.

She looks away to hide her smirk. He's been here for at least fifteen minutes and that's the best he can do?

-

Skyler's in the middle of folding clean laundry when the phone rings. She drops the sweater she'd just picked up and heads into the kitchen to answer. "Hello?"

"It's me," says Marie. "I just wanted you to know the power's back."

"It'd better be. I spent about a half hour screaming at the guy from PNM."

"You probably scared the living daylights out of him."

Smugly, Skyler replies, "That was the idea."

On the other side of the line, Marie sighs. "I wish you'd come back home. This stuff never happened when you were around."

Skyler leans up against the wall, looking out at the lights of the city through her kitchen window. "Just focus on school. If you get a scholarship, you'll be here in six months. I think you'll love Santa Fe. It's got so much culture."

"I don't know. I was thinking about Albuquerque."

"Albuquerque?" That's a surprise, coming from Marie. "Why Albuquerque?"

"UNM! Duh! Where else am I supposed to meet a sexy, hot, rich medical student?"

"I don't think any of them are rich until they actually become doctors," Skyler points out.

"Some of them might be."

"Mm. Yeah, no. Do you know how much med school costs?"

"Whatever! We'll see who has the last laugh in a year when I'm getting married in Paris to the doctor of my dreams."

"Med student. Not doctor."

"You're one to talk. What's the job market look like for English majors these days?"

Skyler rolls her eyes. "I'm getting off the phone now. Go do your homework."

Once she's hung up the phone, Skyler's eyes drop to the notebook left open on the kitchen table. She never finished that creative writing assignment, which marks another big fat zero in her grades for the semester. She's not sure why she bothered to go to college at all when she's still stuck solving all of her family's problems.

-

Six letters. The clue is: "No-gooder".

Skyler raises her pen. _B A D E G G_.

"Excuse me," a voice purrs from the table behind her.

Skyler jerks back and hastily shoves her newspaper under the stack of menus before she turns around. "Sorry, yes?"

He's here again, which she already knew, but he'd been so quiet and absorbed in his own crossword that she'd entirely forgotten he was still there. "Sorry to bother you," he whispers conspiratorially, casting a look at the register to be sure her manager isn't in sight. "I was just wondering what you got for number four, down. 'Frequent Monet subjects'?"

"Haystacks," Skyler answers. She doesn't even have to check her crossword. It was an easy one. "When Monet observed how different atmospheric conditions affected the mood of a piece, he decided to try painting the same subject during different hours of the day, with different lighting and different weather. And the subjects he decided to paint were the objects sitting right outside his front door: haystacks."

"Haystacks, huh," the man repeats, chuckling as he fills in the blanks. "Boy, I never would've gotten that one. Are you a student of art history?"

Skyler throws a glance around the dining room, but it's nearly two in the afternoon and the restaurant's empty except for the two of them and the kitchen staff. Even Tiffany, his waitress, has disappeared off somewhere. Skyler edges closer to his table and leans back against it. "Just a fan of art. _Student_ of English."

"Is that right? No wonder you're so good at these things." He taps the crossword puzzle with his pencil eraser.

Skyler ducks her head coyly. "You caught me."

He winks at her. "I won't tell."

Still no sign of her manager. Skyler eases closer to him, taking a look at his answers. "You're not so bad, yourself."

"You're too kind..." His eyes flit to her nametag. "...Skyler." He offers her his hand. "I'm Walt, by the way."

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Walt," Skyler replies with a smile, shaking his hand.

"The pleasure's all mine." He gestures to the seat across from him. "Are you going to join me at last?"

"For a couple minutes," Skyler concedes after a last look around. She slides into the booth and crosses her legs, her foot unintentionally brushing his calf.

"So where is it you're going to school?" Walt asks her conversationally.

She doubts he's really interested, but she answers, "The College of Santa Fe. Though I'm saving up to transfer to Austin. Better program out there, not to mention the grad school has one of the best writing programs in the country."

"So you're a writer," he observes. Not in the condescending tone she's accustomed to hearing. She might be detecting some admiration in his tone, actually.

"I'm a hostess who _wants_ to be a writer," she replies wryly. "My family's hoping I'll change my mind and go into accounting. More sensible."

Walt shakes his head and leans forward. "There's nothing interesting about being sensible."

Skyler giggles, tucking a curl behind her ear. She feels self-conscious beneath his gaze, and shifts the subject off of her and onto him, "What about you? Do you work around here, or..?"

"I'm a researcher at LANL," he replies, then scoffs at himself. "Talk about boring."

Skyler lifts an eyebrow. "The laboratory where they invented the atom bomb? Doesn't sound boring to me."

"Well, if you're that interested, we could go for a spin. They've still got a couple buildings from the forties preserved up there. Turning them into museums."

"Really?" That actually does sound fascinating to Skyler. She never spends much time around Los Alamos outside of work, always in a rush to get back to Santa Fe and finish her homework or go to class. She's heard some of the stories, but she's never gone exploring.

He gets a twinkle in his eye when he figures out he's got her hooked. "When do you get off work?"

-

She's in the passenger seat of his silver Nissan Z31, Devo's _Freedom of Choice_ playing on the stereo but barely discernable over the roar of the wind flowing in through the open windows. It's a warmer evening than they've had in a while, signalling the approach of spring. She's invigorated, her hair whipping around her face so that she feels like she's flying as they race through the streets. When she looks over at Walt, she can hardly believe this is real: on a date with a handsome, intelligent stranger who has a sense of humor and a leather jacket and a foreign sportscar.

He's exactly the kind of guy she'd hoped to meet in college, but even college boys never managed to meet her standards. Walt's mature. He's already found his place in the world and the confidence that comes with that security. She's drawn to it.

The car slows as they approach Bathtub Row. When Skyler's eyes fix on the street sign, Walt catches her looking and explains, "These houses were the only ones on the entire site that contained bathtubs. The rest of the housing was built so hastily that they were little more than barracks."

"These look like camping lodges," she observes, noting their natural stone exterior and log frames.

"They were part of a ranch school before the military laid claim to them," Walt tells her. "Then the whole camp became known as P.O. Box 1663. Five thousand people corralled here during World War Two, all in secret, for the war effort. Can you imagine? Five thousand scientists and their families essentially vanished from the face of the Earth for three solid years."

"Did their families even know?" Skyler asks. "Did they know what kind of horror was being created here?"

"If they did, they certainly didn't talk about it."

Skyler rests her chin on her palm, looking thoughtfully out at the passing buildings. She tries to imagine herself as one of those innocent wives, relocated to a military base while her scientist husband worked in secret to create one of the deadliest weapons of all time. What must it have been like when they finally learned the truth?

The car comes to a stop outside one house in particular, though there's little to distinguish it from its neighbors. "This one is where Oppenheimer stayed," Walt tells her.

"How many nightmares do you think he had under that roof?" Skyler muses.

Walt smiles, though it has a rueful touch. "Actually, he was proud of his work." When Skyler looks back to Walt, incredulous, he continues, "It's true. He was famous for his ego, to a point that it unnerved most of his peers. At one conference, he got so caught up in describing the theoretical aesthetic beauty of an atomic explosion that he almost forgot to mention the estimated number of casualties."

Skyler sits back in silence as the information sinks in. The man Walt's describing is so different from the one history remembers. Finally, she says, "I just keep thinking about that speech he made at the end of the war. 'Now I am become death, the—'"

"'—destroyer of worlds,'" Walt finishes, nodding. "It wasn't until after the world had witnessed the destruction at Hiroshima and Nagasaki that he realized what he'd done. The guilt of those atrocities would follow him for the rest of his life."

Skyler's gaze returns to the house with its shadowy windows and desert-worn exterior. "How could he live with himself?"

"He carried that guilt, yet he said his only regret was having not invented it sooner." Walt smiles again. "Apparently the end of the war was worth his sacrifice."

"Not _his_ sacrifice," Skyler murmurs. "He wasn't the one who died for it."

Walt shifts the car into drive, adding with dry humor, "Allow me to assure you that we're not working on atomic bombs nowadays. LANL is a whole lot less dramatic than it used to be."

Skyler breaks into a smile. She believes that. She can't imagine someone as gentle and kind as Walt working on weapons of mass destruction.

-

"I met someone," Skyler sighs, twisting the phone cord around her finger.

" _Really?_ " Marie coos on the line. "Spill. I want all the details."

"He's one of the regulars at work. He's older..."

Marie becomes suddenly skeptical. "How _much_ older?"

"Not that much, jeez. I don't know exactly. I'd guess he's around thirty."

"Oh, okay. Carry on."

"He's a scientist. He's working at Los Alamos National Laboratory. Top secret stuff."

"Oooh, mysterious. Is he rich?"

"I don't know. He drives a nice car, but... I mean, that's not what's important to me."

Marie scoffs. Skyler can practically hear her eyeroll.

"He's _smart_ ," Skyler goes on. "But he's not stuffy. He's really funny, actually. I just... I love talking to him. He knows so much about everything. One night with him and I feel like I've learned more than I have all semester."

"You're such a nerd. Is he handsome, at least?"

Skyler smiles. "Like a movie star. Like Superman. He reminds me of Christopher Reeve a little. You should see his smile."

"Are you sure he's real and not somebody you made up for a story?"

"Shut up!" Skyler laughs. "Okay, enough about me. How're you holding up?"

There's a split-second pause, and Skyler's mood drops as she realizes that Marie's steeling herself before she comes back with a chipper reply, "Great. I'm fine. You know, things are picking up. Dad's still being Dad but I've been making a bit of cash on my own so I can chip in with the bills."

"You got a job? Where?"

"Oh, it's, um... It's not really a job. Just little things here and there. Tutoring, walking dogs, babysitting... Nothing that gets in the way of homework, don't worry."

"That's great, Marie. I'm really proud of you."

"Yeah, so, you know... We're doing fine without you. Takes some of the burden off your shoulders."

Somehow, that doesn't make Skyler feel any better. "Glad to hear it," she says, straining to push the sentiment into her voice. "Sounds like it's been an amazing week for the both of us."

-

Walt takes her back to his place. It's the first time she's ever done this, gone home with a guy on the second date. She's usually so responsible—prudish, even, by college standards. But she was raised by the kind of father who'd threaten boys with a shotgun to keep them off of her, even if he cared about nothing else when it came to parenting. She's only had about a year of freedom to get used to socializing with boys at all.

And Walt isn't a boy. He's a man. She doesn't want him to get the impression that she's inexperienced.

He leads her by the hand up the steps to his adobe rental. It's a smaller place than she expected, but he's living alone, so of course she should have anticipated something cozy. It's furnished sparsely, too, but that's again chalked up to his bachelor status. It needs a woman's touch, is all.

He pours her a glass of wine and takes her out onto the balcony, which overlooks the rural hills illuminated only by the moon and stars. It's strange, but he doesn't have much to say this time. They'd talked for hours during their first date. Tonight, he's nearly silent. Withdrawn, even.

She's tempted to ask if something's wrong. Before she gets a chance, he puts his wine glass down and turns to look at her. A moment of tension passes between them, and then he seizes her by the chin and kisses her with a ferocity she thought only existed in movies. It feels almost like he's claiming her.

And it's thrilling.

-

Skyler's about to step out the door when the phone rings. She glances back to the kitchen, debating whether she should ignore it since she's already running late for class. It rings another three times before she drops her bookbag on the floor and rushes back to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Skyler?" It's Marie. Skyler can immediately tell something's wrong from the way her voice quavers. "I'm in trouble."

"What is it? What's the matter, sweetie?"

Marie sucks in a breath before spilling all of it, "They think I stole something. I was trying on bracelets in Macy's and I guess I must have knocked one into my purse by accident because the next thing I knew, I was getting tackled by a bunch of big men in suits and they dragged me into this dark scary room back here and they're threatening to call Dad and the police and I begged them to let me call you instead and—and will you talk to them, please? Talk some sense into them?"

Skyler purses her lips. "Hand the phone over."

A moment later, a man's voice comes on over the line, "Skyler Lambert? Are you this young lady's guardian?"

"She's my little sister. Look, whatever you think happened over there, I can assure you, Marie would never shoplift. She's a straight-A student who doesn't even jaywalk when the street's empty."

"Even so, we're going to have to contact the authorities. She was attempting to walk out the store with a three-hundred-dollar piece of merchandise in her handbag."

Skyler's voice grows shrill, "It was a _mistake_. Come on, she's—she's seventeen years old. That makes her a juvenile. Even if you press charges, it's going to be wiped off her record in a few months. There's no point!"

"It's our policy to report all attempted—"

"You don't understand!" Skyler shouts into the receiver. "Our father _can't_ find out about this. He'll—Look, I'll pay for it. Okay? I'll give you my credit card number right now. Charge it to me. Big three-hundred-dollar sale. That's got to be worth more than whatever you get out of throwing my sister into juvie. _Please_."

The man goes silent as he considers her offer, dragging the moment on for longer than necessary just to make her sweat. When she almost begins to think he's disconnected the line, he says, "Alright. What's the card number?"

-

Skyler's still in a terrible mood by the time she gets into work. She's running through the phone call, thinking of all the things she could have said to put that man in his place. If she'd somehow found the right thing to say, then maybe she wouldn't be out more than a week's wages on a stupid bracelet. Why'd she do that? Why'd she give him exactly what he wanted?

She's so distracted that she doesn't notice Walt until he's standing right beside the podium, his fingertips lightly brushing her arm. She jumps in surprise, raising her wide blue eyes to him. "Oh! Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't see you."

"I'll wear hot pink next time," he replies with good humor. When she barely cracks a smile, he leans in closer. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah," she replies thoughtlessly. Then she sighs, shaking her head. "No. I don't know. I don't know why I even came in today."

Walt gestures to the door. "Let's go somewhere else, then."

"Are you kidding? I'm still on the clock."

"Sounds like you've got bigger things to worry about. Come on, let's step outside for a few minutes. Lay it on me." He steps back, holding the door open for her.

Skyler scans the restaurant, but it's another slow day and no one's around. She leaves her podium behind and walks out the door, lighting a cigarette as she goes.

"You smoke?" he notes as he follows her out. Apparently she hadn't struck him as the type.

"Only when I'm stressed." She leans up against the wall of the diner and takes a long drag. As she exhales, she says, "I'm starting to think I made a big mistake coming up here, going to school, leaving my family behind."

"What makes you say that?"

"It just feels like everything's falling apart since I left. My mom's gone, my sister's been depending on me for so many years, and I left her behind all for—for what? For a minimum wage job and an English degree? What am I _doing?_ "

Walt's quiet for a moment. Then he asks her, "Are you happy here?"

"What difference does that make?"

"It makes all the difference. Are you happy?"

Skyler sucks at her cigarette before looking up at him with a tremulous smile and tearful eyes. "I'm starting to be. Since you showed up." She sniffs and looks away again. "I'm sorry. I probably sound like a—"

"Hey, don't be sorry about that." He reaches over to touch her chin, redirecting her gaze to him. "I feel the same way."

A tear slips down her cheek at the same moment her smile brightens. "I don't know what to do," she whispers, her emotions at war. For the first time in a long time, she feels safe. Centered. With him. But the reality is that she should leave, go home and look after her sister until the both of them can leave their broken home behind for good.

"Forgive me if I sound dismissive of your family's needs, but hear me out." He brushes her tears away with his palm and cups her face. "Do whatever you _want_ to do. For once in your life, do what feels good. You deserve your chance at happiness as much as anybody else."

Skyler lets the cigarette slip from her fingers and fall to the pavement. There's nothing to lose, is there? If she's leaving here anyway? She might as well tell him how she feels. She reaches up to lay her hand over his. "What if I say that what I want is to be with you?"

"Then we'll be together," he answers, as if it's such a simple thing. "Whatever it is, Skyler—whether it's support or a place to come home to or a chance to live out your dream and write the next great American novel—I will do everything in my power to give it to you."

"You hardly know me," Skyler laughs sadly. He's saying all that just to make her feel better. He can't possibly make those promises to her yet.

"You're right," he says. "But I want the _chance_ to know you. And I'll do anything to get it."

Skyler bites her lip. He's serious, isn't he? When she meets his eyes, she sees nothing but earnest determination there. He's just as afraid of losing her as she's afraid of losing him. "You're serious about this."

"As serious as I've ever been. Let me give you everything you deserve. Let someone else take care of you, for once."

Skyler leans in, meeting his lips for a deep kiss. Her knees feel weak, like they can hardly support her, but he presses his hand to the small of her back and holds her steady. When the kiss breaks, she rests her cheek on his shoulder. "I'm not usually this selfish, I promise."

His chest shakes with soft laughter. "If this is selfish, then let's make a habit of it."


End file.
